This Astronaut Experienced the “World’s Worst Hangover”

Imagine that feeling the morning after a bender—the nausea, the dizziness, the not-being-able-to-get-out-of-bed-ness. Now multiply it. By like a thousand. Apparently, that’s how British astronaut Tim Peake felt after returning from his six-month stint in space.

“Coming back to earth was like the world’s biggest hangover,” Peake told reporters recently.

And it will take a little more than an aspirin and a bottle of water to cure this hangover. Peake is currently at the European Astronaut Center in Germany where he faces three weeks of medical rehabilitation that will hopefully ease the extreme dizziness and vertigo he experienced upon returning to Earth.

Peake is planning to celebrate his return home with pizza and beer—hair of the dog, right?

After spending the past six months floating, Peake will need to learn to walk again. That’s a feat that will prove even more difficult because he also needs to regain his balance and sense of direction—there’s no up and down in space.

Peake is not in what you’d call peak condition. Months in space have weakened his muscles and bones and, even worse, temporarily shrunk the size of his heart. Doctors will monitor the 44-year-old astronaut’s heart and blood circulation’s response to gravity by examining him on a tilt table that rotates his body from horizontal to vertical positions. Which sounds just a tad more intense than the banana bag.

If that weren’t enough, Peake was also exposed to a radiation dose equivalent to nearly 1,200 chest X-rays while unprotected by the Earth’s magnetic field.

Doctors say Peake’s symptoms should subside in a couple of days. Stay strong, Peake. We’ve all been there. Or not, really. We suppose the nausea, dizziness and just all-around regretting of life’s choices is a lot less sad when your choice was to go to space… Yeah.

Peake says he’s planning to celebrate his return home with pizza and beer—hair of the dog, right?

Should You Feel Bad About Traveling When Others Can’t?

I just got back from a short trip to Tokyo, where I did what any man would: I took tons of pictures and posted them to Facebook and Instagram, reaping the likes and showing my friends and followers that I have really good taste in yakitori and know where to find the best shio ramen.

But after reading an opinion piece on Ravishly called “Your Obsession With Travel Sure Feels Classist To Me,” I almost feel bad about it all.

Almost.

But should I feel bad for posting pictures and videos of my trips to social media in fear that my friends and followers will be triggered into shame spirals about their own misfortunes?

The author of the piece, Katherine Dim Clover, points out that travel is a “leisure activity enjoyed largely by the upper classes.” She recounts how, as a child, she felt embarrassed about not having gone anywhere exotic when teachers would ask what she did during summer break.

And it’s getting worse, she says. Travel is marketed as something that broadens worldview, enriches people and may even be necessary to be happy.

But what about people who can’t afford to travel? Clover feels shame about that, and she’s probably not alone. The way we share our travel photos and videos on social media can make others feel bad about themselves as well. Not only are they missing out, they’re not even able to make a change due to financial or other constraints. They feel low.

She finishes off with: “When you hold travel up on some kind of pedestal, you sound classist as hell, and I wish you would stop that.”

I was with her until that last bit. I understand that not everyone has the same resources I do—that I can up and head to Tokyo for a wedding—but I refuse to feel bad about that. Should I feel bad for having air conditioning during a heatwave when someone else doesn’t? Should I feel bad about anything I have or can do that someone else cannot?

Of course not.

But should I feel bad for posting pictures and videos of my trips to social media in fear that my friends and followers will be triggered into shame spirals about their own misfortunes?

Maybe, but I refuse to do so. Not because I think it’s their problem that they cannot travel. Not because I don’t care about their feelings. Not because I think they can simply choose to not look or not follow my updates.

But because I am sharing my experience with them. That is, by nature, a good thing. These aren’t selfies. These aren’t “look at me” proclamations of superiority. Just like Anthony Bourdain shares amazing experiences in culture and food around the world via his television documentaries, I’m sharing experiences that I’m lucky enough to have with my friends, family and followers. In fact, because most of them know me personally, they’re able to experience those things with some context. If they end up feeling bad about the fact that I’m doing a little traveling, well, that’s on them. They can look at that picture in one of two ways: “Wow, that’s amazing!” or “That’s not fair.”

The choice is one of maturity, not class.

Especially if they’re never going to have the chance to eat yakitori in Tokyo. Sure, they could watch an episode of No Reservations and get a sense of Tokyo, but they know me, and my little pictures let them know that I am experiencing something great, and that when I take that photo and share it, I’m doing it for them.

Sure, the likes, and followers make me feel good, but if I didn’t care that my loved ones care about what I am up to, what would society be?

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“Invincible” Travelers Report a Whole Lotta Unprotected Sex Abroad

Two recent studies by the British National Survey of Sexual Attitudes & Lifestyles published in Sexually Transmitted Diseases say that British backpackers are taking the term “international relations” to another level—like, they’re having sex. Sexual relations. Internationally.

Although travelers say they purchase condoms for their trips abroad, they usually don’t use them. More than a third didn’t even think to use them, because STDs are just a figment of the imagination, and a third admitted to not always using them, because travel makes them feel invincible! Really. The first study looked at 15,000 British citizens between 16 and 74 years old during 2010 to 2012, and the researchers found that one in 10 men and one in 20 women (1,071 altogether) said they had had sex with a new partner while traveling overseas during that time.

The second study took into account condom use—in this case with backpackers en route to Koh Phangan and Koh Tao, Thailand. Travelers weren’t exactly concerned with ensuring sexual safety in their encounters abroad. Almost two thirds of all the respondents (61.5 percent) were traveling without a long-term sexual partner, and well over a third (39 percent) said they had had sex with a new partner during the trip—usually backpackers from other countries, although men were more likely than women to have had sex with locals while on the road. Nearly 37 percent reported no or inconsistent condom use. Brits and Swedes were the most likely to say this—and both countries have some of the highest reported rates of chlamydia in Europe.

But the real question is: What about the Aussies?

The 10 Least Romantic Vacation Spots Around the World

Travel is rejuvenating—it can revive someone seeking respite from the mundane day-to-day. And for those of us in a perpetual period of singledom, burdened by absolutely zero obligations to another human, escaping is easy. But eloping to evade the PDA that seems to suffocate us isn’t necessarily easy. Proposals before national monuments and couples making out in winding canals will remind you every damn second just how painfully single you are. So if you’re looking to visit somewhere sick, but don’t want to be bombarded by the same love that eludes you, check out one of these totally unromantic destinations.

1. Dubai, UAE: A British couple was legitimately arrested in 2010 for kissing in public, and received a month in jail. The Dubai Mall has some serious signage asking guests to abstain from public displays of affection, too, so you really won’t have to worry about it.

2. Mykonos, Greece: Sure, Greece is toted as a honeymooners’ paradise—cobblestoned streets adorned with bougainvillea and whitewashed homes that overlook the azure sea. But it’s not always so romantic. During the Spring, all corners of the city boast massive speakers for makeshift concerts that draw in drunk spring breakers who litter the streets with party debris.

3. Bangkok, Thailand: Thailand is recognized for it’s flourishing sex industry and a whole lot of single dudes (seriously, the ratio outnumbers women 2:1), adds to the hook-up culture of Patpong Road.

4. Machu Picchu, Peru: It’s on everyone’s bucket list—as it should be. But you won’t find too many couples hiking the 7,970 feet to the Incan ruin. It’s usually groups of about twelve who do the four-day Inca Trail hike and a lot of people succumb to altitude sickness—so not romantic.

5. Casablanca, Morocco: Casablanca is a cultural hub and bustling fashion capital worth checking out, but it’s not anything like the film. It’s colorful medinas are full of merchants selling their goods and the streets boast high-end shopping outlets and malls. It’s home to Hassan II Mosque and possibly the world’s worst traffic. Kissing in public in this country isn’t really a thing, and many hotels won’t let men and women share a room unless they’re married.

6. Bali, Indonesia’s Kuta Beach: Yes, Bali is one of the first destinations people think of when they think romantic getaway. Sanur, for example, is a small beach town and popular spot for honeymooners. But Kuta Beach, which is one of the first beaches you’ll hit driving in from the short cab ride from the airport, is so not that. The nightlife is alive with electric clubs and rowdy bars where many sex workers hang out. You’ll find solo backpackers passing through as there are tons of cheap hotels, too.

7. Beijing, China: China is so worth visiting and, if you go, you really can’t skip the capital, Beijing. You’ll be surrounded by a blend of modern architecture and ancient sites like the grand Forbidden City complex—the imperial palace during the Ming and Qing dynasties. But you won’t find lovebirds here, where the city is so polluted you can’t even see the sunset. In fact, it’s so bad that the city has installed LED screens to broadcast the sunset.

8. Brussels, Belgium: Brussels—it’s famous for chocolate, waffles, french fries and beer, galore. But many visitors are EU politicians there for work, as it’s the political capital of Europe and a central business hub. The city lends itself to a ton of architectural history and is still home to about 40,000 EU employees, 4,000 NATO employees and hosts about 300 lobby groups, embassies and press corporations. But the only romantic place you should avoid is one wine bar named Goupil le Fol, which is adorned with mood lighting and cozy couches—where you’ll find all of the city’s couples.

9. Singapore, Singapore: Singapore is basically one giant financial district with seemingly very little indigenous culture. It’s definitely a place you have to see while in Asia, as it’s the epicenter of much of the world’s start-ups (and Singapore Changi Airport is truly a destination in itself—we’re talking outdoor nature trail, swimming pool, movie theater, beauty and reflexology centers, sleeping areas and massage chairs everywhere), but it’s not at all romantic. Downtown is packed with partiers and the rest of it is made up of high-rises. Just steer clear of the 250-acre Gardens by the Bay, where you actually might find Mr. & Mrs. on a stroll.

10. Cardiff, Wales: Cardiff is a cool city. It’s very chill. In fact, it’s so chill that it’s your basic hometown-y city. No couple looking for a romantic getaway weekend is going to go to Cardiff of all places. It’s a nice place to check out if you’re touring the UK, since it’s an easy train ride from London or Edinburgh, but it’s not a place many tourists are eager to check out. It’s just a bunch of regular people doing regular things.

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How and Why to Travel Solo

My curiosity feeds an impetus for travel, and my travel whets an abiding curiosity. I’m homesick for places I’ve never been and forever tempted by thoughts of elsewhere, wherever that may be. And because I don’t know where exactly, I’d rather go alone than drag along a crew.

Truthfully, I love impulsive solo travel because I’m selfish. I want to do what I want to do when I want to do it. Laozi, some ancient Chinese philosopher who I’d probably quoted in AIM away messages back in the ’90s, once said, “A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving.” I never have any plans and I’m rarely intent on arriving because, for me, travel is not to go somewhere, but to go—anywhere. For travel’s sake.

I caught the bug in 2012 and have since backpacked nearly 30 countries spanning five continents. I’ve streaked in the Sahara Desert with nomadic drummers—and ridden a camel (see photo below),  shared meals in Southeast Asia with refuged sex workers whose names I never learned but whose stories I’ll never forget, sacrificed sheep in remote tribal villages of North Africa, protested at kissing rallies in the Middle East, gone off-roading across Central America and more.

People tell me I’m crazy, especially because I’m a chick. I’m often asked if I’m afraid of rape. Or if I’ve seen the movie Taken. I am and I have. But rape happens everywhere, and Kim wasn’t alone when she was abducted in Paris. Fear doesn’t consume me; it drives me. It drives me like I have a point to prove. People say they’d be bored, too. But I’m here to tell you how to travel fearlessly, and I promise that you will never get bored.

1. Don’t wait for others to join or you’ll never go anywhere.
If you rely on other people, you’ll start to take on their setbacks as your own. I used to plan trips with friends, until I realized that none of those plans ever came to fruition—conflicting schedules, dissimilar interests, varying priorities. Time is of the essence, so never allow yourself to miss out on an experience for excuses that don’t belong to you.

2. Go with the flow, because you can.
When you’re not restricted by friends’ fears, inabilities or apprehensions, or confined to their itineraries, you can legitimately do anything you want to do, and that’s insanely liberating. Instead of going to see what you’ve gone to see—because, with friends, you’ll likely have to agree on what to check out—you have the option to just see whatever you see. And that’s a way realer experience than that of a typical tourist.

3. Don’t be afraid to delve deep into the culture.
Surround yourself with familiar faces and you’ll seldom break out of your comfort zone. You’ll become a bystander. Surround yourself with strangers and you’ll be forced to engage and learn their stories. Whether you’re with locals or sharing a dorm in a hostel (which I recommend a million times over a private room), you’ll meet new people. Before you know it, your path will take turns you never anticipated—indulging in meals you’ve never tried, partaking in religious customs you’ve never understood or dancing dances you’d never seen.

4. Communicate however you can.
Nothing revives childlike wonder like being in a place where you’re ignorant of almost everything, can’t speak the language and are equipped with only the most rudimentary sense of how things work. You’ll be forced to communicate in ways beyond words, which connects humans on a level that doesn’t divide us by native tongue. And when you return knowing how to seamlessly interact with anyone anywhere, the world suddenly seems borderless.

5. Discover yourself.
Experiencing new things inevitably means discovering yourself. You learn your strengths, limits, likes, dislikes, comforts, discomforts. And, off the grid and unencumbered by the burdens of everyday life, you have time to reflect on those discoveries. It’s rejuvenating and will allow you to become a better version of yourself.

6. Earn your own trust.
Traveling solo means having only yourself on which to rely. You have to have your own back, trust your own instincts and be your own pilot and co-pilot. In doing so, you begin to find joy in the little things—something as simple as boarding the right bus becomes thrilling and rewarding. And because you have time for self-reflection, you allow yourself to pat your own back. It’s something we don’t do enough, as we’re all too often being our own toughest critics.

7. Take written notes on everything.
The best thing I ever did the first time I left the States was write down everything—random thoughts, restaurant names, profound conversations, what I ate for breakfast. I have notes with exact times of the day so I can reminisce in vivid detail. Today, I look back at notes and my personal growth is palpable. I laugh at things I wrote had scared me then, and I recall details I’d have otherwise forgotten.

8. Take your experiences home with you.
Traveling with friends makes memories, but they can quickly devolve into “that one time in Mexico.” Once you’ve traveled solo, the voyage is immortal; it doesn’t end. Because wherever you venture, those places somehow become a part of you. And you look at the place to which you return with new eyes.

9. Keep your mind open before, during and after the trip.
I’d never have eaten sheep testicles with my friend quivering beside me, just as I’d never have prayed in a mosque beside my Catholic friend. Our responses to cultures and opportunities are very often molded by the company we keep, and we consciously or subconsciously temper our curiosity because of that. Solo travel and you’ll come back armed with education, modesty and empathy—all things we need to create effective change in this world.